A Child's Dream
by stellarserenity
Summary: A child's dream, or waking nightmare? What happened on that fateful night, so many years ago? The story of the bite that started it all.
1. A Child's Dream

AN: Don't own. Never have never will. This will only be one or two chapters long, not quite sure yet. Enjoy!

**1: A Child's Dream...**

Mrs Ylva Lupin gave the creamy sauce in her fry ban one final stir before ladelling it onto each of the three plates before her. The food smelled delicious, and she was surprised her boys hadn't come running for it already.

"Remus! Connor! Dinner's on!" She called cheerily, as she carried the three plates over to the dining table. The two larger ones were in her hands, while Remus' smaller plate was balanced in the crook of her elbow. She set the laden crockery down carefully and went back for cutlery. She scooped up three knives and forks, not caring that the cutlery was mismatched, and set them about the table. She then turned and poked her head into the lounge, calling again.

A stampede erupted from the upper level of the house as she sat down. That would be Remus. She had half a mind to call out for him not to trip on the stairs, but restrained herself, a smile tugging at her lips. He would only run faster if she called.

Sure enough, seconds later he burst into the room, and tumbled into his chair at the table. He wriggled on his little cushion, placed specially so that he could cut his food comfortably. He had recently taken an independent streak where he had refused to have his food cut for him. He would do it himself or eat it whole, and there was no arguing.

He sniffed loudly. Ylva restrained her smile.

"Don't sniff Remus. If you have to, get a handkerchief," she admonished.

"But it smells so good! Do we have to wait for Daddy? He'll be ages! He always is."

"Yes Remus, we'll wait for Daddy. He'd wait for you." She had to restrain her smile again as Remus pouted. That was not the sort of behaviour to encourage. Patience was a virtue, and she wanted her only son to possess all the virtue she could give him.

Remus shivered, "But it's _cold_ out here Mommy. I want to go back in the lounge where the fire is lit!" Ylva smiled again.

"Well, while we're waiting for Daddy, you run outside and get some wood. We'll put it on the stove here and make this room warm too," he was up like a shot and heading for the door. Quickly, Ylva spoke again, "Don't carry too much mind! I don't want you to hurt yourself. And remember to take it from the top! We don't want it all falling down around you again!" He flashed a smile at her over his shoulder, before slamming the door shut. She heard his slippered feet slapping on the paved path, fading as he headed to the woodstack round the side of the house.

Ylva sat in the silence that followed and heaved a sigh. Connor worked so hard. Even now he was probably reading or engrossed in some knew experimental charm. He was brilliant, undoubtedly. People had often referred to him as a genius. But like so many others who were brilliant, he was also slightly eccentric. Ylva liked his odd habits and behaviours, but other's didn't. So while the family were well respected, they had few friends, and were by no means rich. Ylva sometimes wondered, when she was in town, whether it would make a difference not living on the very edge of a forest, but in a city like London. But Connor liked the space of a country property, and so they stayed put.

She glanced out the window, and noticed the clouds massing in the sky. It would be first snow fall soon. No wonder Remus had been cold. Perhaps she shouldn't have let him out in nothing but his pajamas. Well, at least he'd be back quickly if it was very cold. The clouds were getting so think, Ylva could barely make out the outline of a full moon in the sky. It's light was weak, casting the outside world into black and white hues. She shivered, and cast her eyes back to the internal warmth of the dining room.

Feet on the stairs. Connor was coming. Ylva set her hands on her knife and fork, anticipating Remus' return at any moment. Her husband appeared, and shivered as soon as he entered the dining room.

"Merlin it's cold out here," He was reading as he walked. Ylva smiled, "Where's Remus got to then?" He set the book down and glanced around, as though he expected his son to be hiding in a cabinet.

"He's gone to get firewood. He said he was cold, which is fair enough I suppose. He'll be back any moment, but we'd better wait for him. I wouldn't let him start without you on the grounds that you'd wait for him." She flashed a smile at him, and he returned it. He did not pick up his book, for which she was grateful. Meal times were often the best time for discussion with Connor, as he was not immersed in his work.

They waited for perhaps five minutes, chatting casually. Connor asked about her day, for although they had both been in the house, he had been locked in his study. She asked if he had made any breakthroughs, and he responded he hadn't, but was very close. It was time filling talk, and when it was finished, Remus had still not returned.

"Where _has_ that boy got to?" Connor asked at last.

"Perhaps he's tried to bring too much wood," Ylva answered, "Or maybe the stack's fallen again and he's trying to pick it up. I did tell him to take wood from the top, but if he couldn't reach he might have climbed on it, and it's not that stable."

"I'll go and help him, I think," Connor answered, "It'll be faster, and we can carry more wood that way. I don't want that gravy to go cold." He stood and headed for the door.

As he reached it, a scream rent the night air, high pitched, blood curdling and afraid. Ylva's hands clenched around her cutlery as she recognised it, and her blood ran cold. Without realising it, she was on her feet, cutlery still in hand. She did not pause to put it down, but threw herself toward the door. It still swung from Connor's wrenching it open, and as Ylva ran after her husband to see what dared frighten her son, a haunting howl floated across the night air. Ylva doubled her pace.

To be continued...


	2. Or a Waking Nightmare

**... Or a waking nightmare**

Ylva flew along the paved path, her husband ahead of her. He had already disappeared around the side of the house by the time she was half way there. His yells, her son's screams, all seemed muffled in her mind, as though she were hearing them through a thick glass wall. Louder in her ears was the rasping of her own breath, the beating of her own heart. _Please let my baby be alive_.

She rounded the corner and stopped dead. She gasped: Involuntarily fell back a step: Froze. Her gaze swept the scene in three seconds but it took so much longer for her to comprehend what lay before her. Her baby; her little boy lay prostrate on the ground. His right arm was twisted at a bad angle. His hair was matted with blood. He was bleeding so much! Arms, legs, face all marred by glittering trails, turned black in the moonlight. _Please not dead. Not dead. Please_...

Ylva glanced down and saw the remains of her son's slippers lying tattered and chewed at her feet. But only when the growling finally broke past the seeming block in her hearing, did she comprehend the rest of the scene.

A wolf circled, pacing back and forth around her son's body. It's eyes were fixed on her husband who stood, wand drawn, near the house wall. This was not a gray wolf, as she had often glimpsed from afar in the winter. This wolf was a reddish brown, with a peculiar snout and unusually large paws. But it was the eyes that sent alarm bells ringing in Ylva's ears. Eyes that were yellow and glowing. Werewolf.

A sob escaped Ylva, and immediately the wolf reacted. It turned from Connor toward her, and under it's yellow gaze she quailed. It would surely smell her fear. Oh why had she not picked up her wand from the bench? She stood uselessly, hands at sides as the wolf took a deliberate step toward her.

"INCENDIO!" Connor's voice erupted into the night. It carried with it a flare of blue-white flames. The flames shot toward the wolf but the creature dodged. Quick as a flash it leapt at Connor, and Ylva gasped again as he raised his wand in defense. But there was not time for him to call a spell. The wolf's jaws yawned ready to bite his neck, to kill. But something found its way between them. The wolf's jaws snapped shut around the mahogany wand and with an earsplitting crack the wand was snapped clean in half.

But the creature's momentum would not be stayed. It planted its forepaws firmly on Connor's chest and he stumbled back against the house wall. Claws dug deep and Ylva sobbed again, raised her hands to her mouth to stifle the sound.

It was then that she remembered the cutlery. Knife and fork, metal, shining silver in the moonlight. A vague memory stirred from Ylva's school days, a defense lesson she thought she'd never have occasion to need.

"CONNOR!" She screamed as the wolf towered over her husband. His eyes darted her way and she threw the knife, handle first so as not to stab him. Merlin knew how he caught it but he did. He stabbed, slashing at the wolf's snout and eyes.

A ghostly howl of pain and sorrow responded and the wolf withdrew, returned to his circling. But he wasn't beaten. He wasn't really that hurt at all. Blood dribbled from the wounds to his snout but any moment he would attack again. Ylva and Connor traded momentary confused glanced. The knife should have done it. Silver bullets killed werewolves. Surely silver alone would injure.

Ylva saw Conner glance down at the knife and then back up at her, fear in his eyes.

"It's stainless steel Ylva!" Ylva could only sob again. The wolf lunged once more. Again Connor slashed but this time the wolf paid not mind. Again it bowled him over with it's strength and stood ready to tear out his throat.

Ylva glanced away, down. The wolf had killed her son. It was about to kill her husband. And then it would be her. She could not bear to look.

The fork caught her eye. More exactly, something emblazoned on the bottom of the fork: a detail she had neglected to notice. It was a crest, the crest of her family. It was of the set her mother had bequeathed to her. But where it had come from did not matter. That cutlery set was pure silver!

Without thinking, Ylva dashed forward. Her fear was gone. Her heart was pumping. Her breath came fast in her lungs. She would not lose both son and husband. She stabbed at the wolf's flank. Once, twice, three times. The unearthly howl erupted through the night again, but Ylva paid not mind. She stabbed a fourth time, and felt the fork wrenched from her grip.

The wolf fled, fork still stuck in its side, and Ylva crumpled to the ground, weeping. She waas dimly aware of Connor moving. He had got to his feet and walked a short way away. Perhaps he wanted to make sure the wolf would not come back. She didn't know. At least he was alive.

"Ylva," His voice was harsh, soft and hushed, "Ylva, come quickly. He's alive-..."

To be continued...


	3. Epilogue

AN: Sorry it took so long. My inspiration went on vacation.

**Epilogue**

Ylva could not stop the tears. She made no sound. The salty droplets coursed down her face, gathering into larger droplets for a moment at the corners of her mouth before rolling down her chin and landing in her hands. She closed her eyes against the harsh daylight streaming into the hospital ward. It didn't seem right. Why should the sun still rise when her world had been turned ashen?

A shadow eclipsed the window. Connor stood there, staring blankly out at the morning. Ylva turned her gaze back to her moist hands. She could not look at the bed. Every time she did, the memories ran raw through her mind.

_The wolf fled into the forest and Connor called to her. Instantly she was at his side, although she could not remember how she had got there. Her baby lay, his head in his father's lap. One arm was dangling at a sickening angle and the wounds still bled. But he was moving. _

_He twitched, first his arm, then a leg. Within moments he was shaking, his body spasming out of control. Ylva sobbed again and reached down to take her baby's hand, but Conner slapped her away. Gently, he lay Remus' head back on the ground, stood, and stepped back. Ylva stared at him for a moment in disbelief, and then made to kneel and take his place. Conner grabbed her shoulder roughly and pulled her back. Mutely, he pointed._

_Through one of the last small gaps in the thick cloud, Ylva saw the full moon shining merrily. A low growl hissed up from the ground. It was so soft, at first Ylva thought she had imagined it. But when it came again, she had to look._

_The creature before her was barely recognisable as her son. The pajamas were already tearing away in tatters as his legs shortened, the claws catching on the hems. He stood now, low to the ground, on three paws. Even as Ylva watched, the last vestiges of humanity vanished. The almond eyes snapped open and flashed yellow._

_Only the wounds remained. Ylva could see the fresh wounds on the snout, and the broken forepaw was obviously useless. She stared in fascinated horror, and only when the worf cub started toward her did she realise Connor was trying to pull her back._

_Too late. The cub leapt at her. In a flash, Connor was in front of her, kicking at the cub's lame leg. He struck home, and a yelp of pain escaped the creature, accompanied by a sob from Ylva. Her boy. Her baby boy..._

_"Don't Connor!" She screamed, "Come away!" It was she who pulled him now. But it hardly mattered. The cub had fled into the forest. Ylva bolted up the path and did not stop until she had flung herself on her bed. She heard the heavy bolt slide home on the front door behind her._

_My son is lost..._

_My son is dead..._

The harsh sound of a man clearing his throat broke Ylva's tortured reverie. Her head shot up and her eyes snapped open. She caught a brief sight of the twisted body on the bed before she looked away, meeting the man's eyes. He was a healer. She recognised him. He was the one who had ensured a private ward when they had arrived only two hours ago. Although she knew he had done it rather to shelter other patients than for Remus' own piece of mind, Ylva was still grateful. She did not want this to become a public affair.

"What is it?" Connor's voice. She did not know what to think of him. His son had been injured, and Connor had kicked him. And yet it had been Connor who strode into the forest alone this morning and found him. Connor who had taken Remus through floo to St Mungo's, saving Ylva the grief, "Well?"

"I'm sorry." The healer spoke only those words, before looking down at his shoes. Pain exploded in Ylva's mouth, but it was nothing to the burning in her throat. Tears welled once more and sobs broke out afresh.

_My son is dying..._

_My son is dying_

"My son is dead..."

"Oh no Ma'am, he will live," The healer was looking at her again. It took these words for Ylva to realise she had said the last sentence alloud, "He's very lucky, ma'am. Few his age have ever survived. But he will live. He will just..." The voice trailed off.

_My son is dead to me..._

Without a word, Ylva stood and walked away.

_End_


End file.
